If Music Be The Food Of Love
by Katrina
Summary: "If everything went off right, tomorrow he would get to know Buffy's deepest, inner feelings." BUFFY/SPIKE. AU. The Immortal suspects that Buffy is harboring feelings for someone else and is determined to find out if his suspicions of it being a certain vampire are correct.
1. The Spell

DISCLAIMER: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" is copyrighted to Warner Brothers and Mutant Enemy Productions. I retain rights to the plot, but not the characters. This story is meant for enjoyment purposes only. No infringement is intended.

AUTHOR: Katrina

RATING: M

TIMELINE: Post NFA.

SYNOPSIS: B/S Fic. Answer to Richess' challenge of the month on the One Good Lay site to create a musical fic using hits of today. The Immortal suspects that Buffy is harboring feelings for someone else and is determined to find out if his suspicions of it being a certain vampire are correct.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm not too sure how this concept will work out but I hope that I can do it justice. I just fancied having a go at writing something different from my usual fic's and thought that the extra challenge of making a 'musical' was interesting…and hopefully, entertaining J

THE CHALLENGE:

Basic Plot:  
Make your own musical using hits if today. The challenge is to create your own fic using hits of today, it can be in any season or Alternative Universe/Reality if you like.

Requirements:  
- Pairing: B/S.  
- Setting: whenever wherever whatever.  
- You MUST use a minimum of twelve songs (like the musical).  
- You must have a Christina Aguilera Song or Britney Spears Song.

- You CANNOT use a song that has been on Angel or BTVS before.

Ideas you can use:  
- Everything else it up to you

Onto the fic…

IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LOVE

PROLOGUE - The Spell

The Immortal watched as the elderly warlock was all but dragged across the floor and thrown down in front of him in a quivering heap. A flick of the wrist conveyed to his henchmen that they should move away and he stared down at the pathetic magic peddler in disdain.

"Are you certain you can perform the spell that I require, Garrick?" the Immortal asked in a low tone, his deep rich voice filling the air and compelling the warlock to raise his frightened gaze to him.

"Yes, Sire, I can do the spell…I swear," the scared man replied quickly, his withered features cracking into tremulous smile that revealed uneven, yellowed teeth with gaps here and there.

The Immortal leant forward and looked at him dubiously. He wasn't confident that the man visibly shaking in front of him could pull off the delicate enchantment but there were no other suitable candidates…well, none that were any longer around to help him, that is…

"If you make any mistakes I will cut off your fingers and force you to eat them one by one," he told the poor man in a menacing tone. "Then I'll do the same to your toes…and then your ears…your eyes…need I go on?" he asked with a cruel smile.

The warlock shook his head vigorously. "No, no, I understand," he said, the tremor in his voice audible.

"Good," the Immortal replied as he settled back into his chair. "Then you will do it tonight," he added decisively.

"Tonight?" Garrick repeated faintly. "But…but I have no ingredients…"

"I have everything you need right here," the Immortal informed him curtly before holding up his hand and clicking his fingers twice.

Almost at once, a door behind Garrick opened and two young women came in carrying large trays. The first held a vast array of aromatic herbs, several small jars containing diced animal parts and one glass vial of blood. The second carried a pestle and mortar, some matches and an earthenware plate painted a shimmering blue.

"Begin now," the Immortal ordered flatly as the tray was placed on the floor in front of the still kneeling warlock. "And be certain it works."

Garrick swallowed nervously then ran a trembling hand across his brow in an effort to remove the beads of sweat that had gathered steadily ever since he'd been in the Immortal's company.

Looking down at the ingredients, his mind went momentarily blank and he swallowed again, his eyes closing as he struggled to remember the spell. Hearing the chair in front of him creak suddenly, his eyes flew open and he looked up fearfully at the intimidating man in front of him.

"What is the delay?" the Immortal demanded angrily.

"No delay, Sire," Garrick assured him hastily. "I'm just preparing myself…uh…_emotionally_ for the spell."

The Immortal's eyes narrowed suspiciously for a moment and then he gave the man an abrupt nod. "You're prepared…do it now."

Garrick dropped his gaze and looked back down at the herbs blindly. Reaching out, he began to pick up various plants and hurriedly started to crush them using the pestle and mortar.

The Immortal watched the man's hurried movements for a moment or two then stood up and slowly walked over to a set of glass doors that led out onto a balcony. Once outside, he rested his hands on the black, ornate railing and stared out across the large courtyard that was surrounded on each side by three storey apartment blocks.

Turning his head to the right, his gaze fell upon a lit window and he watched silently as a silhouette moved around behind the closed curtains. That was were his heart was - in that room with the most wonderful woman he'd ever met in his entire existence.

Buffy Summers.

Unfortunately, he was almost certain that she didn't reciprocate the sentiment. Not that she'd ever said anything, on the contrary, she'd always been very warm and attentive towards him…but even so, underneath it all, he was aware that she still held something of herself back.

That was probably the reason they hadn't yet consummated their relationship. Yes, they'd kissed and they'd petted, but that was all. Whenever he attempted to take things further, she quietly, but very firmly, told him no.

At first he'd thought that she worried that things were moving too swiftly, but, five months on she still continued to resist his advances…which was why he'd resorted to having the spell performed.

That, and the sudden appearance of two ensouled vampires, one of whom he'd believed to be dust, three weeks prior.

He hadn't seen Angelus or William the Bloody in decades but he'd recognised their individual signature's as soon as they'd entered the club. In truth, his dislike of them was such that he doubted he'd ever forget them.

Before he'd set out to seduce the Vampire Slayer, he'd gotten his underlings to find out everything they could about her and he'd been amazed to discover that she'd been involved with two of the most notorious vampires of his time. It had piqued his interest in her even more, making him as determined to have her as he'd been to teach the two vampires a lesson many, many years earlier.

How sweet it would have been to take the love of their unlives and make her his…but he hadn't…couldn't…she wouldn't let him. Trouble was, he wasn't completely certain which of his two nemesis was the one that had her keeping him at arms length. At first he'd leaned towards Angelus…first love dies hardest after all, but then he'd continued to read the information on her relationship with William and he couldn't help but wonder if, in actuality, it was him.

Although the details were sketchy at best, one thing was perfectly clear, with or without a soul, she'd been drawn to William again and again and it was due to his sacrifice that she now lived a virtually slaying-free life.

And now he was back. Somehow, some way he'd returned…a fact of which Buffy appeared to be ignorant. And he intended to keep it that way.

After ushering Buffy rapidly out of the club that night, he'd made sure that the vampires' business was quickly wrapped up and that they were on their way before the Slayer even realised either of them had been around.

The light from the window went out and he stared at the now darkened apartment for a few moments before turning around and going back into his own dwelling with a heavy sigh.

Moments later a man hurried in and bowed low. "The warlock is ready," he announced unemotionally.

The Immortal turned to look at the messenger then nodded abruptly and headed out to the main room of his large, sumptuously decorated penthouse suite. "The spell is prepared?" he queried as he sat down on the throne-like chair and stared expectantly at the warlock who was standing slightly hunched over in the middle of the room.

"Y-yes," the old man croaked out nervously.

"Then proceed," The Immortal ordered with a hint of impatience. "I want it cast tonight."

Garrick nodded and ran a hand across his forehead again, wiping away the copious amount of moisture that, he was very much afraid, had become a permanent fixture ever since he'd entered The Immortal's domain.

Dropping to his knees, the warlock laid out the various herbs and other, less palatable, ingredients in front of him then looked up and signalled over to one of the servant girls who approached him carrying a small, highly decorated golden bowl. She placed it on the ground then slowly backed away.

Garrick began placing the ingredients into the bowl with jerky movements that gave away his inner tension. He was only sixty percent certain at best that he'd concocted the right mix of ingredients to enable the spell to work. The remaining forty percent was based purely on gut instinct and a deep need to stay alive, not to mention intact.

Once he'd finished his task, he glanced up at The Immortal then looked back down at the bowl. Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes briefly before striking a match and setting light to the container's contents. Almost immediately a smokeless, bright orange flame flared up and the warlock began to speak the enchantment. The flame grew brighter and then as Garrick's voice faded into silence, the small fire died away amazingly leaving the bowl as clean as when it was first brought in.

"Is it done?" The Immortal calmly asked after a brief pause. Garrick nodded and The Immortal's face took on a grim expression. "How long before it takes effect?"

"Probably tomorrow at the earliest," the warlock replied hoarsely. Long enough for him to get his payment and leave the city.

"Good. Polak will show you to your room," The Immortal told him as he gestured for one of his men to come forward.

Garrick's eyes widened dramatically and glanced at the henchman in panic. "But…my money…you said I could go…I can't stay here…" he babbled as Polak grabbed a firm hold of his arm and began to lead him away.

The Immortal watched the man go, his pleas fading the further away he got until they were abruptly cut off by the sound of a door slamming shut. Looking around at the rest of his entourage, The Immortal waved his hand in a silent dismissal and relaxed back into his chair.

If everything went off right, tomorrow he would get to know Buffy's deepest, inner feelings. He would know if she felt anything for him or if she still harboured any feelings for Angelus.

Worse than that…he would know if his girlfriend was still in love with William the Bloody.

END PROLOGUE

TBC IN CHAPTER 1 - Everything I Own


	2. Everything I Own

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting but I suddenly decided that I didn't like what I'd written for the first chapter and rewrote the whole thing taking me off onto a different tangent than I'd originally planned! Please note that song lyrics are shown in _italics_.

CHAPTER 1 - Everything I Own

Buffy Summers, the longest living Slayer in history, entered her apartment and shut the door with a loud slam, alerting its occupants to her arrival. She'd just returned from what had been her last date with the Immortal and was doing her best to navigate the tide of tumultuous emotions that had her in their fierce grip.

"Hey Buffy, that was quick," Dawn commented with a frown as her sister stalked through the lounge on the way to her bedroom. "Everything okay?"

"Just _peachy_," the Slayer replied curtly as she went into her bedroom and shut the door with so much force that it actually rattled on its hinges.

"Somehow I don't think she really meant that," Dawn said wryly as she turned her head to look at the young man sitting next to her on the couch.

"Obviously a problem of the 'Immortal' kind," Xander agreed with a nod. Having finished his mission in Africa, he'd been visiting and staying with the sisters until starting on his next Slayer assignment.

"I'd better go and see if she's okay," Dawn decided as she moved the bowl of popcorn from her lap to the space in between her and the carpenter.

"Maybe you should just let her calm down a little first," Andrew suggested from his place on the chair next to the couch. He cast a worried glance at Buffy's door then looked back at Dawn in concern. He hadn't seen the Slayer that angry since the time he'd accidentally shrunk her favourite top in the dryer.

"It'll be fine," she assured him dismissively as she stood up and walked over to her sister's bedroom. Raising her hand, she knocked firmly on the door twice then leaned forward slightly in an attempt to hear any noise. "Buffy?" she called. When she got no immediate response, she glanced back at the anticipatory looks on the two males faces and tried again a little louder, "Buffy, are you okay?"

Inside her room, the Slayer leaned back heavily against the door, her eyes closed. "I'm fine, Dawn," she finally replied, her voice harsher than she'd intended. Deliberately softening her tone, she added, "I just…I need some time alone right now, okay?"

There was a pause and then she heard Dawn say, "okay". Opening her eyes, Buffy turned her head slightly and listened to the sound of her sister move away. Certain that Dawn had left, her gaze drifted around her darkened room and noticed the way the moon shone through the glass balcony doors, its light spilling across the floor and casting just enough illumination that she could see the outlines of her furniture.

Leaving the light off, Buffy pushed away from the door and walked over to the bed. Sitting down, she shrugged off her coat then toed off her shoes and kicked them aside. Moments later she stood and began pacing up and down, agitation clear in the jerky movements of the normally fluid grace of her body.

Almost from the moment she'd awoken that morning, she'd known something was wrong. Memories and feelings that she'd kept under tight control ever since the destruction of Sunnydale, were insistently pushing their way to the surface, clamouring to be acknowledged…and she had spent the entire day doing her damdest to ignore them.

It had started when she'd stepped out onto her balcony and leant her elbows on the black railing. Tilting her head back, her eyes had slid shut as she'd relished the warmth of the early morning sun.

Seconds later, her eyes had opened and a soft, melancholy smile had curved her lips as she'd looked out over the courtyard and down at the small fountain that acted as a centre piece. "Thanks, Spike," she'd murmured softly.

Not a day had passed since her ex-lover's sacrifice that Buffy hadn't said those words. Each day, without fail, she'd welcome the day and send thanks to the heroic vampire who had willingly laid down his unlife for her and the rest of humanity so that life would continue and _she_ could have her chance at living normally.

And, each day, without fail, those two little words were accompanied by a smile. Not once had she cried, no matter how much she missed him. She wouldn't…because if she did, she doubted she'd ever stop.

The first couple of months after Sunnydale had been the worst, but she'd determinedly got through them with the support of Dawn and her friends. She'd decided to be completely honest with them in regards to her feelings about Spike and had told them all that she had loved the vampire very much.

Unexpectedly, there had been no expressions of outrage, not even from Xander. It was as if they'd all known and were just waiting for her to actually say it aloud. Hugs and sympathy had followed, especially from her sister who had admitted that she deeply regretted not making her peace with Spike.

Buffy had done her best to comfort her sister but knew that with regrets such as those there was little she could do to ease her upset. It was something Dawn would have to work through by herself until she found a place where they could sit in relative comfort, just as Buffy had learned to do a long time ago.

Sometimes though, they didn't like to stay in the cosy little niche she'd created for them and as the memory of joined hands bursting into flame had flashed into her brain she'd known it was going to be one of those days.

And it had been…in spades. With each passing hour, she'd felt more and more unsettled. Her emotions had surged and raged, battering relentlessly against her self-imposed walls, breaking them down slowly and surely until she felt exhausted from trying to contain them.

Every little thing Spike had ever said or done seemed intent on replaying itself over and over in her mind until she thought she was going to go insane. The fact that Xander had spoken about him that morning hadn't helped either.

After breakfast, he'd pulled her to one side and told her that he was worried about her. She'd been surprised at that but her amazement had doubled when he'd bluntly asked if she'd actually ever mourned over Spike.

At the shake of her head, he'd smiled softly then pointed out the fact that it wasn't a healthy way to live and she needed to resolve the past if she was never going to progress her relationship with the Immortal any further.

Having lost Anya in the same battle as Spike, Buffy knew that he understood what she was going through, especially since he'd admitted to her one night that he'd been secretly hoping for a reconciliation with the vengeance demon after the fight.

It had been about three months after the destruction of Sunnydale that they'd shared a bottle of wine and talked about their demon ex-lovers, remembering the good times…and the bad.

It was cathartic for them both. Xander had admitted that after spending his life condemning demons in every way, shape or form, it had come as a shock to him to find that his love for Anya had never wavered, even when he'd found out she'd become a vengeance demon again.

Emotionally, he'd revealed that at some point during those three month's following Anya's demise, he'd sat down and taken a good, long look at himself. What he'd found wasn't pretty and he wasn't proud of what he'd become by any means but what he'd learned from that time of introspection had been essential as it had made him finally do some growing up.

When Xander had finished talking, Buffy had had her turn and for once, the carpenter had listened in silence. Afterwards, he'd told her that what she'd said had enabled him to reach a new level of understanding that had been missing due to his continued prejudice towards the bleached blond vampire. True, some of it he'd said he wished he didn't know, but without the whole story, he wouldn't have been able to appreciate Spike's final selfless sacrifice.

Buffy came to a halt by the side of her bed and sighed. How ironic that the two people not to make it were actually demons…and they both died saving the lives of humans…their supposed enemies.

What a truly non-black and white world they lived in…and something that she insisted was taught to all new Slayers. No longer were lessons given on how bad _all_ demons were…there was too much evidence to prove otherwise now.

Surprisingly, it was an old friend of Spike's that had agreed to help out with that aspect and Clem now toured the many Slayer headquarters that were dotted around the globe, teaching them about the different kinds of monsters and demons what to expect if they ever encountered them.

She began pacing again, the small smile on her lips as she thought of the wrinkly demon slowly fading as it brought fresh memories of Spike to the surface.

In his crypt. In his bed. On the rug…under the rug. Smoking. Drinking. Sleeping. Arguing. Smirking. Vamping. Making love…

His wonderful blue eyes that could see into her very soul. So expressive…cold one minute then loving the next, only to show pain seconds later as she delivered one of her cruel jibes.

Round and round they spun. Image after image, sentence after sentence. Words ringing in her ears and whirling around her brain until she physically fought the urge to scream aloud.

Suddenly, she felt extremely claustrophobic. Turning abruptly, she walked over to the glass doors of her balcony and opened them. Stepping outside, she drew in several deep breaths of the warm night air in order to try and calm down.

Going to the railing, she placed her hands on the top and clutched the iron tightly. Closing her eyes, she determinedly ignored the way they stung with the onset of tears. She wouldn't cry. She _couldn't_.

Slowly gaining some control, her lids lifted and she stared out across the courtyard. After a few seconds, her eyes drifted over to her left and up until they found her ex-boyfriend's penthouse apartment windows.

The Immortal.

Deep down, she'd known it wouldn't last. He wasn't what she wanted and she shouldn't have entered into the relationship without at least some small capacity to commit. Oh, she had on the outside well enough, but on the inside…on the inside, he hadn't even come close to touching her heart.

In truth, she'd used him, not unlike the way she'd used Spike in the past except without the pain…physically at least.

He'd obviously not seen it coming, although she'd been distant with him for a while now. Realising he wasn't going to let their relationship just fizzle out, she'd decided to end it that evening when she went to his place for dinner. It had been surprisingly easier than she'd expected but she suspected that his sudden interest in her previous lovelife had something to do with that.

For all the months she'd known him, he'd never really asked about her past. There had been the odd question here and there, but no real conversation as you would expect from the person you were dating.

When she'd arrived, he'd asked how she was and seemed to look a little puzzled when she'd said fine. The expression was fleeting however, and she quickly dismissed it as she mentally debated the right time to tell him it was over. She hadn't wanted to do it over the phone, he deserved better treatment than that.

Now though, she wished she _had_ just called. Almost from the moment they'd sat down to eat and his questions had begun. Her obvious reluctance to answer though, had managed to annoy him enormously, almost as if he'd expected her to just reply to whatever he asked.

Eventually, having had enough of what was rapidly turning into an inquisition, she'd finally lost her own temper and thrown down her napkin, telling him that as far as she was concerned, they'd had a good run but were now over.

He'd tried to detain her, but she'd shaken his hand off her arm and walked away ignoring the 'frigid' jibe he called out after her. Men could be such asses at times and no matter if he was _The_ Immortal, she was still _The_ Slayer and she'd be able to kick his butt any day of the week.

Dragging her eyes away from the balcony, she felt another rush of emotion suddenly well within her. One after the other, images of the times she and Spike had fought each other flashed through her head, almost taking her breath away with the intensity of feeling that accompanied them.

It overwhelmed her senses and her mind, making her sway slightly under the onslaught. Fresh tears gathered behind her eyes, begging to be released even though she squeezed her lids tightly shut.

Then suddenly, she could feel it again…the urge to let everything out. To just scream her torment to the darkened sky. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the stars and felt another barrage of emotion rocket through her and knew she couldn't take any more.

Mouth opening, she finally succumbed to the feeling and took a deep breath. To her shock, instead of the loud cry she'd been prepared to give, she actually started to sing. The words seemed to be dragged from the bottom of her very heart and soon, she was too lost in their meaning to worry about why it was happening.

_"You sheltered me from harm,_

_kept me warm, kept me warm._

_You gave my life to me,_

_set me free, set me free._

_The frankest years I ever knew,_

_were all the years I had with you._

_And I would give anything I own,_

_give up my life, my heart, my home._

_I would give everything I own,_

_just to have you back again._

A sad smile curved her lips.

_You taught me how to love,_

_what a time, what a time._

_You never said too much_

_but still you showed the way_

_and I knew, from watching you._

_Nobody else could ever know,_

_the part of me that can't let go._

_And I would give anything I own,_

_give up my life, my heart, my home._

_I would give everything I own,_

_just to have you back again._

The tears that had been threatening ever since she'd begun to sing, started to roll slowly down her cheeks and her voice wavered slightly as she continued softly on.

_"Is there someone you know,_

_you're loving them so,_

_but taking them all for granted?_

_You may lose them one day,_

_someone takes them away_

_and they don't hear the words you try to say._

_And I would give anything I own,_

_give up my life, my heart, my home._

_I would give everything I own,_

_just to have you back again._

_Just to touch you once again."_

The last was a broken whisper…it was all too much.

Finally, she gave way to the anguish she'd carried with her for nigh on a year and wept.

Hands covering her face, heart-rending sobs racked her slim body as she bent forward slightly under the onslaught of emotion that had been set free at last.

Tears of sadness at the knowledge of never being able to see Spike again.

Tears of guilt for feeling happy at being given this opportunity at life when it had cost him his.

Tears of anger because he'd promised that he'd always be there and he wasn't.

And tears of grief for the loss of a loved one. And he _was_ a loved one, even if he had denied her admission at the end.

It had hurt then, and she knew it always would, that he'd died believing her to be as indifferent to him as she'd ever been, but she couldn't really blame him for rejecting her love. Heaven knows she'd discarded his affections often enough.

Her only solace was that she _had_ told him…even if it _had _been too late.

xxxxxxxxxx

The Immortal gripped his balcony railing hard trying the control the seething anger that threatened to have him rip the iron barrier out of its very foundations.

Forcibly uncurling his fingers, he turned away from the sight of Buffy crying into the night and went inside.

"Marco!" he shouted, calling for his second in command.

While he waited, he paced up and down his room in barely contained rage. The spell had worked after all, it seemed…in a twisted sort of way. During their short time together at dinner, he'd been convinced that it hadn't. Whatever he'd asked had been met by one word answers at best.

Still, now he knew how she really felt, albeit in a roundabout way. From her words it appeared that his suspicions where correct…it was William the Bloody who still held her heart after all.

And he hated her for it.

No one treated him the way she had at dinner. _He_ was the one that decided when he'd had enough…not her. She'd soon pay for that transgression, however, he'd see to that. If he couldn't have her, then that demon scum of a vampire wouldn't either.

The sound of footsteps made him break off his internal musings and look up. Seeing that his second as approaching, he smiled malevolently.

"You called, Sire?" Marco queried after he'd bowed respectfully.

"Yes. I want you to gather together three of your best men and get them ready to leave tonight," the Immortal ordered brusquely. "I have a little job for you to take care of."

"Yes, Sire," he accepted without falter. "Where will we be going?"

"Los Angeles," his master replied in a grim tone. "I want you to find the vampire, William the Bloody."

"What shall we do when we find him?" Marco asked.

The Immortal tilted his head slightly as the soft sounds of Buffy's crying carried through the quiet night into his room. For a brief moment his features softened before hardening again as he turned back to his second. "You kill him," he answered harshly.

The man nodded then bowed low and turned to go only to pause when the Immortal suddenly spoke again. "When you're done, Marco, I want you to package up his dusty remains and send them to the Slayer with a note letting her know exactly who it is that's running through her fingers and being ground into the floor beneath her very own feet."

His second nodded again then left the room leaving the Immortal alone once more. Walking over to the balcony window, he heard the voice of the Slayer's sister as she tried to soothe her sibling's distress and let out a derisive snort.

Closing the doors, he turned back to his room with a shake of his head and called out for one of his guards. A man entered almost immediately and sank to his knees awaiting orders.

"Bring me Garrick," the Immortal snapped. "Now!" He watched the man hurry back out then went over to a black case that lay on its side on his desk. Opening it up, he pulled out a wicked looking dagger and ran his forefinger along the side down to the tip.

The warlock had messed up and was going to pay the price.

END OF CHAPTER 1

TBC IN CHAPTER 2 - Everything About You

A/N: The song used in this chapter is "Everything I Own" by Bread – please note that I have changed some of the lyrics to fit the story better.


	3. Everything About You

A/N: Apologies for the delay in this chapter but RL is getting in the way of everything at the moment! _Italics_ denotes song lyrics.

CHAPTER 2 - Everything About You

Los Angeles. Night. The rain fell relentlessly, saturating the four bedraggled people who stood at one end of a dirty alleyway. At the other end a large demon army, including a flying dragon, was rapidly approaching.

Mortally wounded, Charles Gunn, the last surviving human member of Angel's team, still managed to quip about their seriously outnumbered chances. "Okay…you take the 30,000 on the left..." he declared sardonically.

The blue skinned ex-God, Illyria, looked at him dispassionately. "You're fading," she stated matter-of-factly. "You'll last ten minutes at best."

His fate sealed, Gunn forced himself to straighten, a determined expression appearing on his face. "Then let's make them memorable," he announced grimly.

Nearby, an ensouled bleached blond vampire stood and watched the army draw closer. Blood mingled with the rain and ran down the side of his face as he flicked a glance at Angel. "In terms of a plan?" he queried, relishing the fight ahead even though he knew that chances of surviving were slim to none.

Angel kept his eyes on the demons ahead. "We fight," he declared firmly.

Spike fought the urge to roll his eyes. Trust Peaches to state the obvious. "Bit more specific?" he requested, dryly.

Angel grasped his sword tighter as he prepared to go to battle. "Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon," he told the other vampire lightly. Then, the army almost upon them, he raised his weapon and ordered harshly, "Let's go to work!"

Charging into the fray, he was closely followed by Spike, Illyria and the badly wounded Gunn. Weapons swinging and fists flying, they all embarked on the fight of their lives.

xxxxxxxx

Dawn yawned widely and ran a hand through her uncombed hair as she walked into the kitchen. Sitting down at the table, she yawned again then gave Xander a grateful smile as he placed a steaming mug of coffee down in front of her.

"How's Buffy?" he asked, settling himself down opposite her at the table.

"Still sleeping," the brunette replied tiredly as she thought back over the last few hours.

The shock of hearing her sing was surpassed only by the shock of hearing the way she broke down afterwards. Rushing to comfort her sister, it had hit her to what extent Buffy had actually missed Spike. She'd known that her sister had strong feelings for the vampire but the magnitude of them had been more than even she'd imagined.

Guiding Buffy to her bed, she'd hugged her tight and made soothing noises until her sister had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. Catching a couple of hours sleep herself, she'd then gotten up and closed the curtains against the rising sun then left to room.

Now, as she sat with Xander and Andrew, she decided to ask the question that had been pushed to the back of her mind ever since she'd heard Buffy sing.

"So," she began, fixing Xander with a faintly accusing glare. "Do you think Sweet's back in town?"

xxxxxxxx

Spike swung his sword deftly decapitating the demon that had been about to take a bite out of Angel.

"Thanks," the brunette called as he pushed the body off him and stood up. Raising his head, his eyes widened and he pointed over Spike's shoulder and yelled, "Look out!"

The blond turned just in time to see an axe come flying through the air towards him. Next thing he knew, he was shoved aside with enough force to knock him over. Looking up, he was more than a little shocked to see the last person on earth he ever expected standing there, the axe now firmly gripped in her hand.

"_Faith_!"

"Getting slow in your old age, Blondie," she goaded as she walked over and held out a hand to help him up. "Or maybe it's coming back from the dead that does that to you?"

The vampire grasped her hand and hauled himself up then cast a quick glance around the mêlée noticing for the first time that hundreds of young women had now joined the fray.

Slayers.

The odds on winning had suddenly vastly improved, but even so, tension now gripped his frame as one thought thrust itself to the fore…

"She's not here, so stop standing there like a vamp caught in the headlights and get your ass out there and fight…or do you _want_ to die again?" Faith snapped with a frown as she raised the axe then turned away and headed back into the fracas.

Feeling both relieved and disappointed that Buffy wasn't there, Spike determinedly pushed the confusing feelings aside and took the dark-haired Slayer's advice. With a new vigour, he let out a mighty roar and charged back into battle.

xxxxxxxxx

Andrew listened to Xander and Dawn as they talked about Buffy and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. They both didn't seem to be that surprised at her feelings…the singing, yes…but her feelings for Spike, no.

Frankly, he'd been stunned.

The promise he'd given to the bleached vampire weighed heavily on his conscience and he shifted in his chair again, this time also letting out a long sigh.

"You do know that if you need to leave the table, Andrew, you're old enough now that you don't have to ask, right?" Xander queried with a touch of irritation.

"Sorry," the fair-haired man replied sheepishly. "It's just…" He paused, then opened his mouth to continue before shutting it again and looking pained.

"For goodness sake, just spit it out, Andrew," Dawn ordered in exasperation.

Andrew looked even more pained. "I-I don't know that I should. It'd be like Frodo betraying the confidence of Gandalf the White!"

Dawn rolled her eyes, used to Andrew's way of expressing himself through movies. Annoying as hell. "Andrew," she began warningly.

"Spike's-back-and-in-L.A.- helping-out-Angel," he suddenly blurted out, unable to keep the information in any longer.

A stunned silence met his declaration as both Xander and Dawn stared at him in utter disbelief.

A small noise from the doorway caught their attention and they all looked up to see a white faced Buffy standing there, staring at Andrew in shock. Moving slowly, she entered the room and took a seat at the table, her eyes never leaving his face the entire time.

Taking in a deep breath, she continued to hold the trainee Watcher's gaze before quietly demanding, "Okay, tell me everything."

xxxxxxxxx

Spike eased his battered body against the brick wall of the alleyway and let out a long groan. God, he ached. What he wouldn't give for a smoke right about now.

The battle was over at last. It had been a long, hard fight but Wolfram and Hart were out of business…for now at least. The price had been high, though…too bloody high.

Bodies were strewn everywhere. They'd lost Gunn and Illyria, not to mention at least a third of the Slayers…the scent of their rich blood permeating the air and making his mouth water at the mere thought of its potency. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.

A movement to the side caught his eye and he turned his head to see a bedraggled Angel limping slowly towards him. Cuts and bruises littered his face and arms and his clothing was ripped. "You look as bad as I feel," he commented dryly as the other vampire joined him.

"I must look like hell then," Angel replied with a grimace as he leaned back against the wall next to Spike. "Gunn and Illyria didn't make it," he added quietly after a couple of moments.

"Yeah, I know," Spike replied, just as softly. "Blue took a broadsword for me. Bit of a shock, that."

"Yeah, well, she always did have a soft spot for her _Pet_," the brunette replied with a wry smile.

"Bollocks," the blond retorted half-heartedly as he moved his body slightly to try and find a more comfortable position. A palpable shift in the air had him stiffen suddenly and he tilted his head slightly to the side trying to get a grasp on what it was that had the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. "Do you feel that?" he asked in a low voice.

Upon receiving no answer, he turned to look at the brunette at his side and felt a flash of concern to see him bent over double, holding his stomach. "Angel?" he asked, pushing himself away from the wall and over to the other vampire. Reaching out, he placed a hand on the larger man's back then suddenly froze in shock.

It couldn't be true. The prophecy was rubbish…a lie. And yet, his very own senses were confirming the truth of it. Heartbeat. Body heat. In a blink of an eye the Shanshu prophecy had apparently come true.

Angel was alive.

Human.

The enormity of what that entailed suddenly hit him like a freight train, causing him to remove his hand and take a couple of involuntary steps backwards.

Angel groaned and straightened up, turning to look at Spike with a mixture of shock and a tinge of remorse. "Spike…I don't know how…" The former vampire shook his head dazedly. "I thought I signed it away," he muttered, disbelief colouring his tone as he tried to make sense of what had just happened to him.

Spike remained silent, just staring at his one-time grandsire and trying to control the overwhelming surge of envy that suddenly flowed through his body. He'd thought that after the whole Mountain Dew debacle, he'd got the petty rivalry out of his system, especially since he'd beaten him, but apparently he was wrong. Once again, Angel had won and this time he'd claimed the grand prize. A prize that Spike hadn't even been sure he'd really wanted until Angel had got it instead…but now he knew.

"Congratulations," he finally said, his tone flat. "Looks like you've got everything you ever wanted."

Angel frowned slightly and shook his head. "But I don't understand how it happened," he insisted.

Spike felt the air shift again and struggled to keep his continually growing emotions at bay. "What's so hard to understand, Peaches?" he snapped in irritation. "Your little prophecy came true and now you're back among the living. I would have thought it'd be an easy enough concept to grasp…even for _you_."

Angel's eyes narrowed at the blond's tone, his own ire rising fast. "What's your problem, Spike? Ticked off because I'm human…or that I'm going to be able to be with Buffy now?"

The sound of his love's name on the other man's lips was enough to snap the tenuous control he had over his raging emotions causing him to take an involuntary step forward. Desperately hiding the hurt that seemed to be residing in every pore of his body, he summoned what he hoped was a cold smile and proceeded to tell Angel exactly what he thought of him.

"_I…hate the real sunny weather,_

_And I, hate stakes and holy water too;_

_And I don't like a thing about this city, no, no,_

_And I, I, I hate your stupid hair too!_

_And I, hate everything about you!_

_Everything about you!_"

He turned away to walk off then spun back suddenly as he continued,

"_I, don't like a thing about your Mother,_

_And I, hate your Daddy's guts too._

_I, don't like a thing about your Sire,_

_And I, I, I think your Childe is overrated too!_"

His lip curled back in scathing dislike as he spat out,

"_And I get sick when I'm around…_

_I can't stand to be around,_

_And I hate everything about you!_

_Everything about you,_

_Everything about you,_

_Everything about you!_"

His stance relaxed suddenly as he adopted an amused smirk.

"_Some say I've got a bad attitude,_

_But that don't change the way I feel about you._

_And if you think this thought might bring me down,_

_Look again 'cause I ain't wearing no frown!_"

Two steps took him back in front of Angel, his smile widening evilly.

"_One thing that I did to your lady,_

_I put her on the bed and she didn't even say maybe._

_I know, you know, everybody knows,_

_The way it comes, the way its gonna go._

_You think it's sad,_

_And that's too bad,_

_'Cause I'm havin' a ball hatin'_

_Everything about you!_"

All of a sudden, the uncontrollable urge that had held Spike in its grip disappeared and he broke off abruptly. Blinking a couple of times, his face betrayed his confusion over what had just happened as he tried to make sense of what had occurred. Had he just been _singing_? Where the hell had _that_ come from?

Seeing the same confusion mirrored in Angel's face, Spike decided that it was time to go. Last thing he needed from the ex-vampire right now, was an interrogation. He'd just leave and worry about getting to the bottom of his little musical interlude later. Turning away, he then came to a halt as a hand wrapped around his arm, stopping his retreat.

"Just what the hell was _that_, Spike?" Angel exclaimed in obvious anger. "You don't just break into song then walk away like nothing happened."

Channelling all the hurt, anger, pain and jealousy that surged through his body, Spike spun around with a savage growl and shook off Angel's hand with a barely restrained violence that shocked even him. Unable to stop himself, he reached out then grabbed hold of the brunette's jacket lapels and shoved him back hard against the wall.

"Look, why don't you just leave me the hell alone, _Liam?_" he warned the man grimly. "What I do doesn't concern you anymore. You've got what you wanted now piss off and go live your short little life with your precious Slayer before I decide not to play nice anymore and change you back just for the hell of it."

It was an empty threat but he knew it'd done its job when he heard Angel's new heartbeat begin to race. Letting his demon come forward, he leaned in then ran his tongue up his old grandsire's neck before pulling back with a fangy grin that he had trouble keeping in place.

"Better run…_boy_," he told Angel on a growl before releasing his hold then turning the man and shoving him away, ignoring the flash of pain that shot through his battered body at the violent movement.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Faith demanded suddenly, startling the two men who had been oblivious to her approach.

Spike growled low in his throat then, with a swirl of black leather, he turned abruptly and ran off into the night.

Angel watched the blond go with conflicting emotions. He dearly wanted to go after him but knew that without his own vampiric powers it would be useless. Spike would be long gone. A hand touched his arm and he looked down to see Faith standing next to him with a puzzled look on her face.

"What was that all about?" she asked, quizzically.

Angel sighed. "I'm human and Spike didn't take the news well," he outlined briefly, still trying to figure out why the vampire had broken into song. Faith obviously hadn't heard that and he wasn't about to mention it especially since it was probably just another of his former grandchilde's quirk's.

"You're _what_? How did _that_ happen?" the dark Slayer queried in stunned surprise.

"Long story involving a prophecy, redemption and an ensouled vampire," he replied with a shrug. "Spike's upset because it's not him."

"I'll bet," Faith commented, thoughtfully. "And what's he doing back among the unliving anyway? Last I knew he fried."

"_That_ is also a long story," the brunet answered on another sigh.

"Yeah, well, better get yourself ready to spill everything, Champ, because as soon as I'm finished here, I've got to phone in my report and you and Spike are top of the list," Faith informed him dryly.

Angel silently nodded his understanding and Faith walked away, leaving him alone. Tiredness washed over him suddenly and he felt as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. The aches and pains that he'd ignored during his altercation with Spike made themselves known again with an intensity that almost took his recently acquired breath away. Turning around, he headed in the direction that Faith had taken determined to get his wounds tended to and then getting some much needed sleep. He'd have plenty of time to worry about what he was going to say to Buffy tomorrow.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Marco exited LAX airport with the keys to his rental vehicle in his right hand. Turning to one of the three men by his side, he casually tossed the keys to him and ordered him to go and find their car.

He hated travelling outside of Italy and wanted nothing more than to get home as soon as possible. He anticipated finding his prey in two, possibly three, nights and being back by the end of the week. It was only one vampire after all, hardly anything to challenge him and his men.

The car drew up and they all got in then drove to a seedy looking motel and booked in. He told his men to get some sleep in preparation of beginning the hunt the following night.

William the Bloody would be dust in days.

END CHAPTER 2

A/N: The song used in this chapter was "Everything About You" by Ugly Kid Joe. Some of the lyrics have been altered to fit the story.


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